


pump mud through my veins

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: Kamen Rider Ex-Aid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Cannibalism, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Necromancy, Shower Sex, Slice of Life, Sort Of, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 17:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13485963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: Kiriya broke a law sacred to his coven in raising their recently dead nemesis just to tie the two of them together for eternity. He doesn't regret leaving the coven or raising Kuroto or the mess that his life becomes.





	pump mud through my veins

The wet chewing sounds are what rouse Kiriya out of his light slumber, his head twisting toward the doorway of the small shack he’s called his home since he left his coven a few weeks ago. For good reason, too; bathed in moonlight is his magnum opus, the stink of copper and dead flesh heavy in the air almost strong enough to make him gag, but not quite. He sighs and heaves himself into a sitting position on the futon, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“What did I tell you about wandering off on your own when I was asleep? If you were hungry, you should have just told me so I could have helped you out,” he says around a yawn.

The figure perched over what he can easily see from his position is a corpse looks up at him, blood smeared over sickeningly pale skin, painting Dan Kuroto’s lips like lipstick smeared by a rough kiss. As Kiriya watches, Kuroto drags his tongue across his lips to lick some of the blood away before smiling at him with bloody teeth. None of this distracts him from his goal, though; one hand is still wrist-deep into the torso of the dead body sprawled in their doorway and as Kiriya watches, Kuroto turns away from him, rips something wet and slick free from the corpse, and sinks his teeth into it, tearing through the meat with one hard bite.

“Gross,” Kiriya says with no real malice in his voice. After all, he’s seen far worse than this.

Kuroto ignores him and continues eating, and Kiriya pushes himself to his feet, padding toward his pet, stretching out a hand to rest on top of his dark hair, shiny beneath the silver light pouring down from the sky. The air is staticy and alive with magical promise but Kiriya has no desire to chase the offer down, more intent on focusing his energy on the man kneeling at his feet, still absorbed in his meal. His fingertips glow a faint, faint yellow, almost faint enough that Kiriya himself has trouble picking it out from the beam of moonlight framing his hand.

“You’re in particularly good health tonight,” he muses, petting Kuroto’s head like one would pet a loyal and loving dog. “Still, you shouldn’t have gone off to find food on your own like this.”

Kuroto tilts his head back to look at him, the angle painful to Kiriya’s eyes. “I apologize, then.”

“You aren’t sorry.” Kiriya thumbs away a drop of blood beneath Kuroto’s eye, smearing it across his skin. “Do you even know who this guy is? Did you make sure he wouldn’t be missed?”

“He was a hitchhiker without any identification on him. I checked after I knocked him out.” Kuroto rolls his shoulders in what is probably supposed to be a shrug and looks far, far sicker than that. “No one saw me take him down. No pictures of friends or family on his cell phone. I broke it.”

Kiriya nods and gives Kuroto’s pale, cold cheek a quick pat before returning to the futon, letting Kuroto enjoy his meal. If the others could see him now, they would be even more furious at his decision to raise one of their worst enemies, the hardest they had struggled to beat, back from the dead. Even if Kuroto lacks all of his previous power and is bound to Kiriya’s side.

_ “You have no idea how sick this idea is!” Emu thunders, shoving him out of the circle. _

_ Kiriya’s lips twist into a smirk at the words. “Ain’t as innocent as you are. Don’t push me.” _

A loud snap tears him out of the memory and he looks up to see Kuroto tossing a broken rib bone onto the floor, either just to get it out of his way or as a peace offering. Either way, Kiriya can use it after he bleaches it free of blood and cleanses it of the energy clinging to it.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Kuroto tells him, and Kiriya grins at the words and shakes his head.

What he had done had gone against the laws of their coven, sure, and Kiriya was willing to admit he had done it out of spite more than anything else. Kuroto’s black magic had almost killed him, and it had hurt people close to him, and Kiriya had not believed for one second that death was a suitable punishment for Kuroto’s crimes. Kiriya was the only one of their coven with necromancer abilities, and had been instrumental in saving the others when they were on death’s doorstep. He knew what his magic could do. He had taken advantage of that fact.

Kuroto being his to raise meant that Kuroto could never stray too far from his side; if he did, it meant weakening the valuable bond between them keeping him alive. For all of his faults and his insanity and desires, Kuroto did not want to die, and he clung to his second chance at life. It meant staying with Kiriya even if he hated Kiriya’s coven for finally putting an end to him.

“You ever regret leaving?” Kuroto asks him, twisting around to look at him, his head twisted at an angle that makes Kiriya’s neck hurt. “I know about the argument. I felt it through your magic.”

Of course he had. Kiriya had been busy dealing with the others and unable to shield Kuroto from the reverberation of his emotions, the one drawback to having raised him in the first place. He had Emu yelling in his face and Parado snarling and hissing, hackles raised, the familiar ready to tear Kiriya’s guts out for bringing back the man who had made him suffer so much. Hiiro and Taiga had been pissed, too, but their anger was less to deal with, less to think about. After all, Kiriya had been closer with Emu. They had worked as partners for a lot of their ritual work.

“Nah,” Kiriya says, and means it. “C’mere. You’ve eaten enough and you’re a fucking mess.”

Kuroto grins at him, and his eyes flash an inhuman gold for just a moment. “I’m always a mess.”

That much is true, and it’s true about  _ both _ of them these days. Still, Kuroto crawls across the floor toward Kiriya, kneeling in front of him, making only a few noises of annoyance and discomfort as Kiriya grabs the package of wet wipes and sets to cleaning his face up.

He needs to be more careful. They both do. Kiriya isn’t aiming to get caught, after all.

Eventually, he gives up on using wet wipes altogether. Kuroto has streaks of blood across his bare chest and shoulders and his hands are caked in it. There isn’t really any avoiding it, and Kiriya knows better than to try to hand feed a hungry zombie. The one and only time he tried, Kuroto had nearly bitten his fingers off, and not on purpose or out of spite— okay, maybe because of one of those. But more so because he was desperately starving.

“Shower,” he says. Water is the only utility they have that works out here, after all.

Kuroto pouts at him and half-crawls into his lap, framing Kiriya’s face in his sticky, gore-streaked hands. If it wasn’t normal for the two of them, he might have had a problem with it. “Now you’re a mess, too, which really means you ought to get in the shower with me.”

“Spoiled brat.” Kiriya kisses him briefly, copper tang against his lips, and Kuroto’s eyes gleam at him when he leans back. “All right. I’m a mess, too. Let’s go.”

He should know better than to let himself get involved with Kuroto in such a way, and if Emu were to turn up and call him a sick bastard for letting it get this far, Kiriya would have to agree with him. There are reasons to raise zombies, and Kiriya’s reason had been genuine if cruel— he truly did believe that it would be far more a punishment to be chained to their coven through Kiriya’s magic than to simply rot away peacefully in the ground. The fact that he had been lonely while away from his coven was not a good enough excuse, and he knows this well enough, but he doesn’t care, not really. He’s stopped caring about decorum lately.

Kuroto only has sweatpants on, low on his hips, and he kicks them off and away before walking over to the tub. Even though he’d been wearing them, that didn’t stop the blood from soaking through the fabric and leaving crimson swathes across his skin.

“It’ll take a minute to heat up,” Kuroto informs him before turning around to face him. When he grins, his teeth show, and it’s like staring down a predator. “Come over here and keep me warm.”

“You getting cold or flirting?” Kiriya asks him, rolling his eyes when Kuroto scoffs at him.

Kiriya allows himself to be used as a warming device for a few minutes, dodging bloody kisses that land on his cheeks and jaw instead. He isn’t like Kuroto and doesn’t have a fondness for the taste, at least not insofar as he’d let Kuroto stick his tongue in his mouth when there might be pieces of flesh still caught between his teeth. But he knows Kuroto gets cold. Zombies always do.

Kiriya has been doing his best to keep him going, though. If only because if he was going to leave his coven over someone like Kuroto, the least he could do was keep him alive and well instead of letting him turn into the shambling, flesh-hungry mess most zombies do.

If he can just get him to stop going out at night on his own to pounce on loners and drag them back home to eat, well, then he might finally have it perfected into an artform.

Taking care of zombies is far from easy and requires the necromancer to be strong enough to expend the extra magic without becoming so depleted they could hardly function in the meantime. Once a necromancer let themselves become weak enough, they would inevitably be unable to take care of their zombie anymore; their survival instinct would protect them above all else. Kiriya is lucky. He had raw strength even before he ended up falling into a coven with a bunch of misfits, and he had only refined himself over the years. He was in the perfect condition to take care of Kuroto, and he had been doing it well for months now.

“Water’s hot now,” Kuroto informs him, stepping away from him to dart behind the curtain, leaving it open, an invitation for Kiriya to chase after him.

“Oh thank fuck.” Kiriya steps in after him eagerly; the blood drying on his skin is starting to itch in its own maddening way. “Make sure I don’t leave any blood on me. I can’t see my face.”

Kuroto peaks from beneath the spray at him, raising an eyebrow. “But it looks nice on you.”

“I’m serious,” Kiriya deadpans, and Kuroto pouts at him before retrieving a washcloth.

The coppery tang of blood is still on Kuroto’s tongue when Kiriya finally gets the last traces of blood scrubbed from his skin; Kuroto stops playing nicely immediately and pushes Kiriya back up against the wall, bending his head to kiss him, a needy noise rolling up his throat.

Kiriya doesn’t much care for this shack of a house or the fact the floor always has dark stains on it because zombies bring their food somewhere safe to eat like cats, but it’s theirs and he can do things like keep lube on the shower shelf without any nosy guests asking about it. It’s there when he reaches for it and switches their positions, shoving Kuroto into the wall.

Not that Kuroto ever listens, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms tight around Kiriya’s hips, licking a stripe up Kiriya’s hardening cock that makes him shudder and fist a hand in Kuroto’s hair. He doesn’t pull him off, just guides his lips to the right place and groans when Kuroto swallows him down easily, all the way to the root, looking up at Kiriya with startlingly dark eyes. He feels just the slightly brush of teeth, almost so faint he wouldn’t have noticed at all in another setting, and it makes him think of the corpse in the living room, Kuroto’s teeth tearing into organs and muscle.

That shouldn’t immediately harden his dick the rest of the way on Kuroto’s tongue; Kiriya almost wishes he could tell Emu that he and Kuroto are perfectly suited toward each other and there’s not really anything Kiriya can do about that. Kuroto grins around him and then closes his eyes, tongue and lips worshipping Kiriya’s dick in a way that only Kuroto has ever managed.

He lets Kuroto suck him off to get him hard, hot water beating down on his back, hot enough that he knows his skin will be red long after the shower is over. Then he tightens his grip on Kuroto’s hair and pulls him up and off, watching him as he turns to brace his hands on the wall, sticking his ass out in offering, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at Kiriya.

“You good?” Kiriya asks him as he presses two slick fingers inside of him. “One guy enough?”

“Yeah.” Kuroto is already panting, rolling his hips back to take Kiriya’s fingers in to the second knuckle, his eyelashes fluttering like they did when the pain was balanced just enough with pleasure for him to enjoy it. “I told you I’d let you know when I was hungry or just go find food.”

“Don’t do that.” Kiriya crooks his fingers and Kuroto keens. “You’ll get shot out on your own.”

Kuroto isn’t as hot inside as a normal human would have been and it always gives Kiriya pause and makes him really think hard about this. He’s only got Kuroto here to fuck because he raised him from the dead himself after a really challenging battle had ended with his coven— former coven— finally killing Kuroto. Kuroto can’t really leave his side, either. It’s… Fucked-up, at best.

Fucked-up works for them, though. “I don’t want to have to glue your fucking head back together because someone caught you and put you down.” He twists his fingers. “You get me?”

Kuroto moans and nods, quick jerks of his head. “I get it, I do. I won’t do it again, Kiriya.”

That’s a lie, and Kiriya knows it. But he got his point across, so he slicks his cock and pulls his fingers out, lining up and pushing in. He’s not exaggerating when he warns people about how big he is, but Kuroto likes pain and he likes Kiriya and he likes a fuck after a filling meal, so he presses back with high-pitched needy whines that make Kiriya’s blood catch fire.

They needed each other. Maybe it was just for stupid magic reasons in a real tangible way, but Kuroto  _ got _ him on a level he didn’t want to admit to. Not to anyone, even himself.

Kuroto takes it like he needs it, rocking his hips back against Kiriya’s pelvis, gasping and groaning, fingers digging into the wall until his knuckles bleach white against his skin flushed pink from the shower and from how his skin heats every time Kiriya fucks into him.

He’s not as hot inside as someone who’s actually alive but he’s just as tight and that makes it just as good. Kiriya lets his eyes drift closed just a little, letting himself be swept away in how good it feels, how Kuroto moans for him, grinding back against him, how he cries out.

Kiriya anchors his hands on Kuroto’s hips, holding him still so he can fuck him as hard as he wants, and Kuroto just moans and lets him. He writhes but it’s only to get closer, to meet Kiriya’s punishing thrusts, even as his thighs start to tremble from the pace.

“All right.” Kiriya reaches around him, wraps a hand tight around his cock. “Ready?”

The best Kuroto manages back at him is a series of noises that aren’t even close to words, but Kiriya smirks just the same and strokes him in time with his thrusts. He’s ready.

He has to hold Kuroto up with one arm when he comes because his knees go out beneath him, but Kiriya is strong enough to hold him up and manage a few sloppy thrusts before he loses it himself. Kuroto moans up at him and Kiriya hisses softly in answer, leaning heavily against the wall, until Kuroto manages to get his feet back beneath him like he should.

Once he and Kuroto clean the semen off of themselves and Kiriya is satisfied there are no traces of blood on either of them, he shuts the water off and they step out of the shower. He has gloves and enough plastic ponchos that he’s confident he can get the body far enough away from their so-called home to get hit buried before anyone comes along and finds it. Emu would have been horrified at the idea of just burying a dead body like that, not with any rites attached, but Kiriya frankly doesn’t give a damn. You care less about spirits when your power is entrenched in death, after all.

“You gonna help?” he asks Kuroto once they’re dressed and he’s looking at the mess Kuroto has made.

Instead of dignifying him with a response, Kuroto flops across the futon and stretches like a cat, all long limbs and lean grace. Kiriya rolls his eyes but rests a hand on his shoulder anywhere, just a small suffusion of magic, enough to keep him going while Kiriya is away from the house.

He has a dirty job ahead of him and will probably want another shower when all is said and done, but it’s fine. He’s gotten used to it. There are a lot of things he’s gotten used to since raising Kuroto. Maybe he should regret it, given all the trouble that had come after.

Just the same, he doesn’t.


End file.
